Stravaganza: City of Music
by Kinti
Summary: Two more chapters up! 17-year-old Kitty stravagates to Volana and gets caught up in the world of treachery and secrecy that is Talia. This is my very first fanfic so please R&R! Will accept all feedback!
1. Prologue: A Matter of Duty

Sorry about the delay, but here is the long overdue prologue, and further chapters should follow very shortly!

* * *

Prologue

A Matter of Duty

'I can't choose!' the frustrated voice rang through the regal palace. 'Violet or indigo? It doesn't matter!' The Duchessa swept past a terrified maid, who stood trembling in the middle of the room, holding two swatches of fabric. With an exasperated sigh, Arianna collapsed onto her bed, swatting away another maid who rushed over to comfort her. 'Oh, just leave me _be_; all of you! I'm tired of all these decisions!'

'Yes, milady.' Barbara knew better than to try and reason with the Duchessa when she was in this sort of mood. Silently, she shooed the other maids out of the room and followed them, curtseying to the Cavaliere who was coming the other way. Luciano nodded at her distractedly, before knocking and going into Arianna's room.

'Violet, then?' he asked, trying not to laugh. Arianna sat up with a jolt and glared at him.

'Silvia wants to see you,' Luciano said smirking, 'she wants you to decide on ribbons –' Luciano ducked as a cushion sailed over his head, unable to suppress a grin. Arianna's eyes were blazing, and her hand searched for another missile as she glowered at her fiancé. Suddenly, her expression cleared, and she threw herself backwards, sprawling on the covers. 'I'm going mad.' She said with a short laugh, 'I didn't know that planning a wedding could take so much effort! I would be happy with a small ceremony on the island, but instead I have to go through with a day that will be a city-wide celebration. I hate it!'

Luciano sat down beside her and took her hand. 'You are Duchessa.' He said, 'Your wedding is a cause for Bellezza to celebrate.'

Arianna sighed, 'You sound like my father. He said that it was my _duty_ to provide the city with a day of partying.'

'He's right,' said Luciano, 'but I don't like it that much. Still, if we focus on each other, maybe we can forget that everyone's watching.'

Arianna turned to face him with a mischievous smile. 'I think we should get married the way we want to – with just our family and friends looking on.'

Luciano knew her well enough by now to know what she was thinking. 'They'll never agree to it,' he sighed, 'the Pope would consider it an insult if you were not married by him. I don't see any way that we can get out of it.'

'Everything has turned into a show of wealth.' The Duchessa's violet eyes looked away. 'It's bad enough that the di Chimici will be there, but my father says that they will try and upstage me, just to show that they should be controlling my city.' She shuddered. 'I don't want to wear a monstrous dress stiff with gems and parade up an aisle adorned with exotic flowers while the entire city looks on. I just want to marry you.'

Luciano stroked her hair. 'I know,' he said, 'and I feel the same way. All the same, how can a city's ruler have a simple wedding without insulting the population and being seen as weak and vulnerable?'

'I don't know.' Arianna was so frustrated that she could have screamed. 'It just makes me sick that while it is perfectly alright for people like me to flounce about in expensive lace and pearls, there are people dying in this city. People who I am meant to be taking care of. _That_ is my duty, Luciano! My real duty; not this silly business of putting on a show! I am ruler of a city full of people who look to me to guide and help them.'

Luciano's hand froze on the way toward his fiancée's. The People's Sovereign. That was what they called Arianna. Yes, why not? Why not let her live up to that title? Luciano strode out of the room half in a daze, hardly noticing Arianna as she collapsed backwards onto the bed once more with an exhausted sigh.

'I can't allow it,' said Rodolfo, 'what an idea! Giving away all that money! It's a wonderful concept, but it would raise too many eyebrows and offend too many people.'

'But isn't raising eyebrows what Arianna's reign has been about?' Luciano pleaded, 'She's not a normal ruler.'

'Duchesse rarely are,' Rodolfo sighed, tightening his grip on the hand of the woman next to him.

'I think it's a wonderful idea,' said Silvia, beaming at Luciano. 'The Bellezzans already see her as kind and generous. How better to help that impression along than a wedding like this? A humble Dechessa who thinks of her people first. I always thought that as Duchessa I had more money than I knew what to do with.'

Inwardly, Luciano fervently thanked Silvia for her support. Now, it was only a matter of time before Rodolfo came round to the idea as well.

After a silence that seemed like an age, Rodolfo sighed. 'I know all too well that if I don't agree then you will all arrange it behind my back. Very well, I'll support it, but we must go about this the right way, so as notto offend the di Chimici and the other rich people. I just hope that this wedding doesn't follow the new tradition of bloodshed that's making its way across Talia.'

* * *

'He agreed?' Arianna jumped up from her seat and clapped her hands. 'Oh, Luciano, thank you!'

'Consider it an early wedding present,' Luciano laughed and picked up his fiancée, whirling her around and around. 'I'm glad you like it!'

'Oh, I do!' Arianna's smile lit up the room. 'Nothing could make me happier right now!'

'So it's settled then,' said Luciano, 'you shall have the wedding you wanted, and the moneythat would have been spent shall go to those who need it. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but if that's not fulfilling your duty, I don't know what is!'


	2. Chapter 1: Silver in the Rain

Chapter 1

Silver in the Rain

The rain pounded against the glass, drowning out the soft lilt of the 'cello. Kitty flicked over the page and laid down her bow. As she rose she glanced around the room. No one. What a surprise. Kitty allowed a wry smile to cross her lips as she tenderly packed away the instrument, before a glance at the dismal weather outside put the frown back on her face. Her invisible audience was applauding wildly, but no eyes met hers as she scoped the school hall. Swinging the 'cello onto her back, she let her feet tread the familiar path to the store room, her feet echoing on the hard floor.

* * *

Terra nudged her head against Enrico's shoulder. Smiling, the young man stroked the young mare's nose, muttering soothing words in her ear. 'There my beautiful. Calm down; the cats have gone.' The chestnut mare tossed her head, and out of the corner of his eye, Enrico could see the stable boy ushering the young kittens – already larger than normal cats – into a shadowy corner of the stable. They had grown so quickly, and Enrico had grown strangely fond of them from his daily visits to the stable. At first they had hissed and scratched at him, but now they allowed him to stroke them behind their ears, and they trusted him almost as much as the young boy who looked after them. Enrico stopped stroking Terra's earthy coat for a split second. Trusted. Now that was something he wasn't used to. Still, he liked it. Maybe in future more people would trust him. That was a comforting thought, and Enrico smiled as he patted the warm neck of his favourite, wondering if maybe being the despised villain wasn't the path that he shouldt have chosen…

* * *

Kitty strode purposefully through the gates, hardly noticing the rain as it trickled down her neck and soaked her dark hair. She kept her head down as she made her way through the 6 o'clock London crush. She ignored the calls that inevitably followed her through the street.

'Keep walking,' she thought, 'just keep going.' She heard hurried footsteps behind her and forced herself not to turn as they drew closer. Just to the Tube. If she could just reach the end of this road –

A hand grabbed her arm and her head whipped around to meet a familiar face.

'Hey! Kitty, nice to see you at last! I thought you'd never come out!'

Kitty said nothing. She turned her face away from him and tried to keep walking, but his grip on her arm stopped her. She could see his gang standing a few yards off, jeering and pointing.

'Hey, Kitty-Kat, you're getting soaked! Come back to my place and dry off. It's just round the corner.' Josh grinned at her and held his umbrella over her.

'Don't call me Kitty-Kat,' Kitty thought, 'My mum calls me Kitty-Kat.' Still she didn't respond.

'I think it would be a good idea for you to come back to mine.' Josh's grin vanished and was replaced by a scowl. The grip on her arm tightened. 'You wouldn't want to make me unhappy, would you?' The gang was closing in. Soon she would be surrounded, and she didn't want to guess what would happen then.

Kitty tried to pull away, and was surprised when he relinquished his grasp. She staggered slightly and then started to run, not caring if he was following. His shout rang in her ears long after she had turned the corner and darted down the stairs into the warmth of the Tube station.

'You've made me unhappy, Kitty. You'll soon find out what happens to people who make me unhappy.'

* * *

In Padavia, Doctor Dethridge was reading the cards. His eyes were half closed, and his hand was guided smoothly, as if some thread were tied to it. He drew the cards from their black pouch, and tenderly laid them on the table. The Sword, the Princess of Birds, the Lovers... he did not allow himself to react until he laid the last card down in the centre of the circle– the Spring Maiden. He sat back, his brow furrowed. The Sword did not bode well as the first card. So many significant cards – the Sun next to the Magician, and Death next the Prince of Salamanders. Dethridge's eyes ached in the meagre light. To have the Sword and Death in the same reading, flanking the Lovers, the Princess of Birds and the Prince of Salamanders... Dethridge didn't like to think about what that could mean. The doctor looked at the other side of the pattern. The Prince and Princess of Fishes stood together, as they always did nowadays. He didn't know who the Princess of Birds and the Prince of Salamanders represented, but their nearness to Death and the Sword must mean they had an important part to play. Sighing, Dethridge focused his mirror on the cards, and Rodolfo's tired face swam into view on the other side.

'Is there anything new?' Rodolfo asked, and went pale when he saw the pattern.

'Whatte is wronge?' Dethridge asked. On the other side of the mirror, he saw his old friend hastily dealing out his own pattern, fumbling on the cards, his hands shaking. Whenhe had finished, Rodolfo showed the cards to Dethridge. It was exactly the same.

'The Sword and Death,' whispered Rodolfo, 'so close together. I cannot see how else this could be interpreted.'

'And yette the yonge mayde sittes inne the centre,' said Dethridge, 'verily she must bode some goode.'

'I do not know what to make of it.' Rodolfo sighed, 'Danger and innocence in the same reading? That cannot happen often.'

'No indeede,' agreed Dethridge. He looked once more on his own cards. The Salamanders and the Sun... did that point towards fire perhaps? He rubbed his tired eyes and put the cards away. The future was sure to bring danger, but every poison had an antidote. Hopefully this time, death would not play sich a large role in shaping the events that would soon unfold in Talia.

* * *

Kitty pounded down her road, not knowing why she was still running. He wasn't following her. There was no need; he would see her the next day at school and could exact whatever revenge he wished. She had damaged his pride, and she knew that he would try and make her pay. As she slowed, she saw a flash of sunlight at her feet. She stopped and bent down. She could just see a sliver of the brightest silver through the mud of the puddle. She reached down and picked it up, rubbing away the dirt and grime. A small key lay in her hand, glinting in the meagre sunlight. It was beautifully crafted, with an elaborate handle and an intricate head. It clearly didn't belong in a puddle in rain-soaked London. Kitty looked around, wondering if someone had dropped it, but the road was deserted. Strange, in this busy end of town. She knew that she should hand it in somewhere, or just leave it where it was. It looked valuable, and she didn't doubt that whoever had lost it would come looking for it. She was about to place it on the wall, when something in the back of her mind stopped her. She closed her hand around the small object, and, almost as an afterthought, placed it in her pocket.

* * *

The evening passed like any other. Fliss scolded her as she walked through the door for being out in the rain without a coat, but Kitty hardly heard. She was thinking about Josh and his threat. She knew he was all talk, but there were rumours about him that didn't bear thinking about. He wouldn't try anything in school, but his gang had seen her reject him, and she would have to be taught who was boss. She didn't want to get into an argument, but how could she avoid it? He had some of the roughest teenagers in London behind him, and who did she have? An invisible crowd who listened to her music. Not for the first time that day, Kitty felt a smile begin. Two smiles in one day. Things were looking up. Kitty moved through the evening in a daze, not noticing Fliss' comments and questions, keen to get into the sanctuary of her room and sleep.

Kitty sat down at her desk. Her head in her hands. Another day spent in silence. It was too easy to hide herself away, talking to no one, letting no emotion show on her face. Only now, safely locked her room did the tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away angrily. Fliss didn't approve of crying. She said it was a sign of weakness. Sighing, Kitty picked up the photo that stood in a gilded frame in the centre of her desk. It got harder every day, and this time, she couldn't stop the salty tears from streaming down her cheeks.

Later that night, Kitty lay in bed as starlight streamed through her window, alighting on the basic desk and chest of drawers. She held the treasured photo in shaking hands, the tears still flowing. On an impulse she laid it aside and picked up the key. She turned it over and over in her hands, staring at the beautiful workmanship. The cold metal was bright, almost too bright; it showed no signs of the black tarnish that afflicted the small silver necklace that she owned. In the stars' light it looked almost ethereal, was Kitty's last thought as she drifted off to sleep, the key loosely grasped in her hand.

* * *

Kitty woke to the sound of a violin playing in the distance. It was a beautiful melody, tragically beautiful, so much so that she almost felt tears prick the corners of her eyes again. Sunlight poured down on her, warming her skin. She blinked and looked around. She was in a garden, a blaze of intense colour and divine scent. It was a beautiful dream.

As Kitty stared at the plants surrounding her, a young man turned the corner in front of her. He was dressed strangely, in a style that reminded Kitty vaguely of Renaissance paintings that she had seen, and he was whistling nonchalantly. When he saw her he started, and Kitty felt very self-conscious as he stared at her, and she felt a flush of red rush to her pale cheeks. The man gasped suddenly, transfixed by something behind her. Kitty turned, and saw immediately what he was looking at. Though the sun shone brightly high above them, on the lush grass at Kitty's feet was stretched only one shadow.


	3. Chapter 2: Ritornello

Chapter 2

Ritornello

As Kitty stared at the ground, she felt her body start to sway, and just before everything went black, she felt herself falling. She saw the young man running towards her as her eyes closed and she fell to the ground. Her hand opened, and the silver key dropped gently into the grass, flashing in the sunlight.

When Kitty opened her eyes, she was in a simple bedroom. The walls were bare, and sheets of paper were scattered everywhere. As her eyes gradually focused, Kitty could see cramped musical notation adorning each and every sheet. On a small table, a wooden flute lay on top of a pile of sheet music, and in the corner, a harp lay propped against the wall. Kitty's heart leapt. Music; that was something she recognised. A worried face was looking down at her, which she recognised as the man in the garden.

'How are you feeling?' his words were soft and calming. Vaguely, Kitty wondered if he sang. His voice had a vibrant quality that suggested it, but she couldn't be sure.

'Don't be afraid,' he said with a smile, 'you had a slight shock in the garden.' Kitty's eyes widened as she realised that he was waiting for her to respond. She was so used to everyone leaving her alone and expecting her to be silent. Her throat felt tight. She hadn't spoken to anyone in so long...

The young man pressed a cold cloth to her forhead, and continued to talk to make up for Kitty's silence. 'What's your name? I haven't seen you at the Conservatorio before. I am , I know it means "winner". My parents were very ambitious.' He let out a short laugh. 'Imagine their disappointment when I became a mere musical apprentice. All the same, Signor Pazzo – I mean, Signor Pendola promised me that I could be a great musician one day.' As he spoke of this man whom he obviously respected, Vincitore's eyes lit up. 'Are you an apprentice too?'

Kitty looked at the young man in disbelief. After years of silence, it astonished her that someone could say so much in a single minute.

Concern crossed Vincitore's face. 'Can you not speak?' he asked, 'Should I send for a physician?'

Kitty shook her head and opened her mouth. Her throat felt tight through disuse, and the sound that came out was harsh and scratched against her windpipe. 'Ki- Kitty. My name. Kitty.'

'Kitty?' said Vincitore, 'are you foreign? We don't have a name like that. The closest we have is Micina. I shall call you that.'

Kitty smiled. This young man was so sure of himself; she wasn't sure how he could be a figment of her imagination. Most of the dreams that she had had recently involved her running away from a shadowed fear: a stark conrast to the glorious sunlight of this particular dream.

'Is this a dream?' she wondered, and Vincitore smiled. With a start, Kitty realised that she must have said that aloud.

'No,' he said, sitting back in his chair, 'but many people think that on first seeing the Conservatorio. It's beautiful, isn't it?'

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'The Conservatorio. Volana's pride and joy. The building you are in at this moment.' Vincitore was speaking slowly as if to a small child. He stood up. 'Come.' He said, 'I shall show you around.' He hesitated. 'But first, we must find you some decent clothes. You are not from Talia, are you?'

Kitty looked down. She was still in the simple cotton nightdress that she had fallen asleep in. She still didn't quite believe Vincitore when he said that she wasn't dreaming, but the notes that she had scribbled on her hand earlier that day were still there. What kind of dream included that sort of detail? So many questions were pounding around in her head, but she chose the easiest.

'Talia? What's that?'

Vinitore stopped walking towards the door, and slowly turned to look at Kitty, an expression of stunned disbelief on his face.

'You- you don't-' he spluttered. Well, at least that shut him up for a bit, thought Kitty with a wry smile. Still, she didn't like being thought stupid, and Vincitore clearly thought her ignorant.

The young man sighed. 'Talia.' He said very slowly and clearly. 'This country. Did you hit your head earlier?'

Kitty was beginning to lose her patience. 'Look.' She said, flicking her hair out of her face. 'I know this is a dream, so can you stop patronising me and treating me like a child; I get enough of that when I'm awake. Anyway,' she said with a smile, 'this dream came frommy imagination. Therefore, I made you up and you are under my control. So just stop acting as if you know everything, because you only know what I know.'

Vincitore raised an eyebrow. He didn't raise his voice, but spoke gently. 'Firstly, this isn't a dream and the sooner you accept that the better. I don't want to have to spend my whole time trying to convince you that this is real. Secondly, I am not deliberately treating you like a child, but you have obviously lost some of your memory. Also, you look very much like a child. How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?'

'Seventeen.' Kitty said through gritted teeth. She was small and she kniew it, but she hated to be reminded.

Vincitore blinked. 'Seventeen. My apologies.' He smiled. 'Thirdly, I am most definately _not _from your imagination, and I very much doubt that I only know what you know.' His grin widened. 'For example; do you know the best place in Volana to find roses in May?'

Kitty shook her head. 'I don't even know where Volana is.' She said.

The young man sighed. 'You are in the middle of Volana as we speak. I shall show you around later. There is a little copse just outside the city where the roses bloom early. Few people know about it, but I am one of them.' He thought for a moment. 'Or how about the names of all the cats that my family has owned in the past 20 years. Do you know that?'

Silently, Kitty shook her head again and looked at the floor.

'No. I didn't think so.' Vincitore turned and opened the door. 'Come. I expect you have more questions but you must hold them for now. I want to ask you a few things as well, but now I shall show you the Conservatorio.'

* * *

Arianna clapped her hands, laughing. The brightly dressed man in front of her laid down his flute and acknowledged her applause with a short nod of his head.

'The Manoush wish Your Grace well with your impending marriage.', he said. 'We have heard tell of your plans concerning it, and we greatly approve of your selflessness.'

'Thank you, Ludo.' Arianna said, smiling. 'And of course, all of the Maoush are invited! You must play at the ceremony.'

'Thank you, Your Grace,' Ludo replied, 'But I fear that our music would not be appropriate for a State ceremony, and may be frowned upon by those it would not be wise to offend. I hear that the music in Volana is wonderful however, and more befitting the marriage of a Duchessa.'

Arianna sighed. 'You may be right,' she said, 'but I do love the music of the Manoush. You play so beautifully, and it gladdens my heart to hear your songs.'

'Thank you for your praise,' Ludo said rising from his chair, 'but I fear that your kind opinion is not shared by many in your society, and it would be unfavourable in the wake of the new laws in Talia for Your Grace to be seen welcoming those whom in other cities would be condemned.'

Bowing towards Arianna, Ludo swept from the room.

* * *

Kitty walked through the draughty corridors in a daze. The Conservatorio was beautiful, with the summer sun streaming through the glassless windows. The architecture looked Renaissance, but she couldn't be sure, and it reminded her of churches and palaces that she had seen when her parents had taken her to Italy. Her heart seemed to constrict as she thought about that summer. She had been little more than a child then; just before her parents left for America. Her lip curled slightly. She had grown up since that day, no matter what Vincitore said. Music streamed from every doorway, all of the melodies intermingling with one another until it was hard to distinguish one from another. She had met so many new people, all of them intruiged by the new 'apprentice' as they believed her to be. Vincitore was quick to introduce her, and it felt strange to be called by the new name of 'Micina' that he had given her.

She noticed Vincitore come to a halt beside her, and she looked up to see an old man standing before them, his hair pure white; long and tied back with a black ribbon. His face was tired and lined, but he had an air of power surrounding him, and piercing green eyes that seemed to to look straight through Kitty. Vincitore bowed, and she hastily inclined her head, unsure whether she was expected to curtsey. The man dismissed the gesture with a wave of his hand, and started to talk to Vincitore as if Kitty was not there.

'Your recital was pleasing, Vincitore. I hope that you can maintain that standard in future. The violoncello is a difficult instrument to master, but you seem to be in control of it.'

Vincitore's eyes widened at the man's praise, and he seemed speechless.

The man hardly noticed, but turned his gaze on Kitty. 'Who is this new apprentice?'

'Micina, um, Libera, Maestro. A new apprentice. She arrived this morning.' Vincitore stuttered. This man was obviously important.

'You are showing her around?' Vincitore nodded. 'Very good.' He turned to Kitty. 'You will come to the courtyard this afternoon. I am to assess your skills.' He strode away, seeminly oblivious to the stunned silence he left behind him.

Kitty turned to Vincitore. 'Who was that?' she asked.

Vincitore stood with his mouth open for a moment before replying. Then he grinned. 'He liked my performance!' he said, 'I'm on my way!' Then he seemed to notice that Kitty was still standing there. 'That was Signor Rinvio. He is the most senior person in the Conservatorio, save for Signor Pendola, but his approval is notoriously hard to come by. And he liked my performance!' Vincitore beamed at Kitty, and seemed to notice that she was still confused. 'Of all of the teachers here, Signor Renvio is the most feared. Signor Pendola is kind to everyone, but Signor Rinvio strives for perfection in everyone; he is never satisfied. He will give you a harsh assessment this afternoon. Do you have a piece prepared?'

Kitty started. 'I have to _perform_ in front of that man? But I've never performed in front of anyone!'

Vincitore seemed unfazed. 'Well, he was obviously expecting you, so you're meant to be here. And if you're meant to be here then you must be good. What do you mean, you've never performed before?'

'No one's ever heard me play. I'm not even that good.'

'Stop being modest. Someone must have heard you otherwise you wouldn't be here.'

'You do know that I still think this is a dream, don't you?'

'Don't start that again. Instrument?' They were back in Vincitore's little room, and he put forward a chair for her to sit in. 'You didn't have anything with you in the garden except for that key.' As he spoke, he picked up the key from a small table where Kitty hadn't noticed it before, and placed it in her hand. 'Does it open your luggage? Your family must be very rich; that key is pure silver.'

'I don't have any luggage.' Kitty said, looking down at the key. It seemed much more in place here than in 21st century London. With every minute that passed Kitty was becoming less sure of her self, and she was even beginning to wonder whether she wasn't in fact dreaming, after all.

'No luggage?' Vincitore looked at her in disbelief. 'Then how did you propose to live here? You must at least have your instrument with you. Unless you are a singer?'

Kitty shook her head violently. She had not sung in years. 'I play the 'cello.' She whispered.

Vincitore's face lit up. 'Ah,' he said, 'a fellow 'cellist! Well in that case, you can borrow mine for your assessment, until your luggage arrives. Now, a piece.' He stood up and began to search through the piles of manuscript that were scattered around the room. Kitty sat frozen, terrified of the prospect of performing, let alone in front of the harshest marker in the Conservatorio. 'Signor Rinvio is a great lover of the ritornello, and I think I have the perfect one somewhere.' Vincitore was muttering to himself. A large mountain of papers collapsed and he cursed. 'I had those in order. Never mind, here it is!' He emerged from the corner, brandishing a sheaf of paper. 'It's not too long, so you can learn it in time, and your assessment shouldn't take too long anyway.' He set it on a stand, and picking up the 'cello, set the music on the page free.

A wondrous sound filled the room, and Kitty closed her eyes. She could tell from the very first note that Vincitore was a very talented instrumentalist, that his 'cello was old, mellow and extremely valuable, and that the piece had been written by a true master of their art. She loved Baroque music, what string player didn't? But this piece was something special.

Vincitore reached the middle section, and his fingers raced up and down the fingerboard. Kitty went pale. There was no way that she would be able to play that as well as he did. His eyes were half closed, and he hardly looked atthe music in front of him, preferring to let his hands be guided by pure instinct. As the piece came to a close, Vincitore looked at Kitty. Somewhat dazed, she applauded, and, laughing at her expression, he took a low, sweeping bow, waving his hand in the air.

'You approve?' he said, his light brown eyes still laughing.

'Virtuoso!' Kitty said. She couldn't help but laugh as well; her heart was racing from the music and Vincitore's performance had left her feeling exhilarated.

'Alright, your turn now.' Vincitore handed the 'cello to her, ignoring her panicked expression. 'Come on, it sounds impressive, but it's not that difficult. Have a go.'

Kitty sat down, and looked at the music. Despite feeling out of her depth in the place that Vincitore called Talia, music was her language. She took a deep breath, and setting the bow to the strings, began to play.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Vincitore led Kitty to the small courtyard in the centre of the Conservatorio. He was carrying the 'cello, as Kitty's hands were shaking so much that she was afraid of dropping the precious instrument. Wordlessly, he handed it to Kitty, along with the manuscript. He gestured, and she walked outside into the brilliant afternoon sunlight. Signor Rinvio was standing with his back to her, still dressed in black. On hearing her footsteps he turned, and his green eyes flicked towards the instrument in Kitty's hand.

'Ah,' he said, 'another 'cellist. That explains your affinity with Vincitore.' He turned and strode towards a door. 'Come.' He said, without turning around. Silently, Kitty followed him, and they made their way up a grand set of stairs that Vincitore had not shown her that morning. A dull, aching fear had settled in Kitty's stomach, and her breathing became ragged. Signor Rinvio pushed open a heavy wooden door, and motioned for her to enter.

Kitty found herself in an opulent chamber. Deep red drapes hung at the windows, and a great bed of dark wood took up most of the room. It was covered in red material, and was ornately carved with intricate patterns which twisted and turned up the posts, which were hung with heavy fabric, similar to that over the window. The room was richly furnished, and propped up against a table was a violin.

'Come closer, child.' The voice that startled Kitty was weak, frail, and so quiet that she wondered whether she had imagined it. Walking slowly towards the bed, Kittysaw a man lying there, so pale that his skin seemed to glow. Thin hair was fanned out over the pillows, and the hands that lay on top of the covers were rough, with long fingers that seemed somehow artistic. The old man's face turned to Kitty's, and she saw the same bright green eyes of Signor Rinvio staring at her.

'Light, Nido.' He whispered, and Signor Rinvio walked over to the window. Slowly, he drew the drapes back more. Sunlight streamed into the darkened room, and looking back at the old man, Kitty saw his eyes fixed on the floor. She looked down. As before, in the garden, no shadow stretched out behind her. The man's eyes glittered, and he lay back again.

'At last,' he breathed. Suddenly, his manner became business-like. 'Now, my dear, perhaps you can tell me why you have arrived ten years late.'


	4. Chapter 3: The Forgotten Talisman

Chapter 3

The Forgotten Talisman

Kitty was frozen where she stood. This mysterious old man was staring at her, expecting her to reply. She looked up towards the window, and saw Signor Rinvio also staring at her intently, evidently waiting to hear her answer as well. As she tried to collect her thoughts together, the old man reached over to a small table and picked up a small wooden carving that lay there. As if to himself, he began to speak.

'I was the first you see. A trial run. The good Dottore could not return, but he instructed me in the ways, and I took with me a small trinket, in the knowledge that it would find the right person of its own accord. When no one came, we all but gave up on the science of bringing people from that world to this. And yet, a couple of years ago, when Rodolfo took a book to the other place against the wishes of the Brotherhood, a young man came. He was the first since the Dottore, and after him came three more. And still I waited patiently, knowing that I had left a talisman there and when it was most needed it would be found by the only person who could truly use it. The key that you hold there was the first to arrive in your world, and that makes it the most powerful. The Brotherhood has all but forgotten that I took it to your world. You will have a larger role to play than all that came before you and any that may come after. And so, I bid a long awaited welcome to the greatest of the Stravagante.' The man inclined his head to Kitty, and lay back, seemingly exhausted by his speech.

Kitty's head spun. She did not understand any of what this man had said to her. Hesitantly she looked at the key in the palm of her hand. It was so small, yet this man spoke of it with reverence. Kitty wondered whether he was ill. She looked up and found the two men still staring at her.

'I – I'm very sorry –' Kitty stuttered, 'But I'm not sure exactly what you're talking about.' There had been so many strange words in the man's speech. It seemed like something from a fantasy novel.

'Oh forgive me!' The man said, 'I have a terrible habit of starting in the middle of the story!' He gave a slight cough, 'Nido,' he rasped, 'Tell from the beginning, please. I am tired.'

Signor Rinvio stepped forward, and Kitty saw once again the similarity of their eyes. Could they be related?

'Micina – I believe that is you name here? – am I correct in saying that you are not from Talia.'

Silently, Kitty nodded. Vincitore had told her that she did not look like she belonged. If she was honest, she didn't really belong in England either. She had once been told that her appearance was 'exotic'. It was true that her eyes were an unusually bright grey and didn't quite fit with her pale skin and auburn hair. She didn't know that much about her family's history, but she wondered if she had foreign heritage.

'Well then, if I am correct, then you are not from this world either. That key in your hand is in fact the key between this world and yours. You are a Stravagante. A traveller. One who can cross the boundary between worlds, with the aid of a talisman.' Signor Rinvio's gaze lingered on the key in Kitty's hand, and she hesitantly closed her fist so that it was no longer in view. Signor Rinvio pursed his lips and continued.

'My father was the second such traveller.' So they were related. She had been right. 'The first came from your world and opened the gateway. Here he goes by the name of Dottore Crinamorte. I believe in your language his name was Doctor Dethridge.' Signor Rinvio waited for Kitty's reaction. She was still stunned at everything that these men were saying to her.

'Dottore Crinamorte instructed my father in the art of stravagation. The travelling between the two worlds. My father made many trips to your country, sometimes with the Dottore and sometimes without. Eventually, under the Dottore's direction, he took with him a suitable object so that another from the other world could travel here. This was of course, before the Dottore stopped travelling and reamined permanently in Talia.' Once more, Signor Rinvio glanced at the key. 'The trinket you hold there opens my father's private music chest, which holds the most precious music in Talia. It has not been opened for ten years, since my father took the key to the furthest possible place.' Signor Rinvio had not looked at Kitty once during this speech. He was fixated on the key, a hungry look in his eyes. The most precious music in Talia. What could be more desirable to the best musician in the country? It was clear to Kitty that Signor Rinvio longed to snatch the key from her and run to open the cherished chest.

So many questions ran around inside Kitty's head. She still didn't understand much of what was bring said. It seemed ridiculous that the innocent little key that even now lay cold and sparkling in her pale hand. Ten years? It didn't even look a single year old. The metal was too brilliant.

'Are you sure?' Her words sounded dull and stupid. 'If you took this key years ago, why has the metal not tarnished over time? It's been lying around in 'my world' as you call it for a long time.'

Both men stared at her, mouths open, and at last the resemblance between them was clear and extended beyond the pale green eyes.

The elder man finally spoke, spluttering as if in shock. 'Silver does not – never tarnishes. Too precious. _Morte d'oro_. The death of gold. Gold turns black over time, but silver shines forever.'

Kitty knew that this was the wrong way round, and her A-Level Chemistry told her that it should be gold that remained bright. Yet both men were so sure, and it was their world – if she allowed herself to believe in the 'stravagation' that Signor Rinvio had spoken of. Her confusion obviously showed on her face, because then Signor Rinvio said, 'Rodolfo spoke of this. I believe that in your world gold is the more precious metal. Am I correct?'

Kitty nodded, and before Signor Rinvio could say anything more, she asked, 'Who is Rodolfo?' She had heard that name earlier; Signor Rinvio had mentioned him as one of the "Brotherhood".

'Rodolfo is a very dear friend of mine,' said the old man, sitting up slightly. 'A very wise man, if a little reckless. After I took the key to your world and no one came, the Brotherhood gave up the idea of bringing people from that world to this. It was pointless. Waiting, I grew ill and never recovered. Eight years after that first and only attempt, Rodolfo took a talisman to that world in secret. A book. I still don't quite understand why. But someone came!' Signor Rinvio's father wheezed and collapsed back onto the pillows in a fit of coughing. Signor Rinvio rushed to his father, who batted his hands away and made a gesture. Signor Rinvio straightened up and continued with the story.

'A young man found his way to Talia. Luciano is his name here. Perhaps you knew him?'

Kitty shook her head, confused. Knew? What had happened to this boy?

'He lives here now.' Signor Rinvio continued, 'In Bellezza. Since he came, more of the Brotherhood took talismans to your world, and more young people followed young Luciano. Three more. In Remora, Giglia and Padavia. None of them come here anymore, but they have all helped to prevent a disaster here. Your talisman waited for ten years to find you. It seems obvious to me that because it waited so long to find you, you must be very important.' He held up a hand as Kitty opened her mouth. 'You are very important. Do not deny it. You have been brought here for a purpose and when the time comes you will do the right thing.'

* * *

Kitty closed her mouth and collapsed in thought. She felt slightly dizzy, but there was something that was bothering her.

'You said that the Dottore and Luciano live in Talia now. What happened to them in England? What's happening to me now?'

Signor Rinvio laughed. 'You are a bright child! I don't think that anyone before you even thought about that.' He paused, choosing his words carefully. 'While you visit Talia, your body in your home world looks as though it is asleep. In a sleep so deep that you cannot be woken.'

Kitty had a sudden vision of Fliss shaking her and shouting. So deep you cannot be woken. It would seem as though she was in a coma.

'I need to get back!' she cried.

'Do not worry,' Signor Rinvio assured her 'It is night in your world as it is day in Talia. You fell asleep to come here, and we will send you back before night falls here.'

'You still haven't answered my other question.' Kitty stammered, 'What happened to the Dottore and the boy who came here?'

Signore Rinvio hesitated. 'They both live here permamnently, as Talians. The longer they spent here the weaker their other selves became. To become Talian and leave the other place – they – they had to die.'

* * *

A gasp leapt out of Kitty's mouth before she could stop it. 'They died?' The room seemed to fall away, and she heard a fragment of music in her head. A piano, slow but beautiful. The same fragment over and over again.

Signor Rinvio nodded. 'They live on here are happy, and Luciano is to be married. They were given another chance where otherwise they would have none. It happened for the best.'

Despite Signor Rinvio's reassurances, Kitty couldn't speak. A sudden pain started in her side and her vision blurred. Vaguely as she doubled up she saw Signor Rinvio fetch something from the end of the room while his father cried out in shock, but too weak to move. Gently, Signor Rinvio forced the water between Kitty's weakened lips, and she collapsed, sobbing.

'I'm sorry.' She breathed, 'I'm not sure what happened.'

'It's all right,' Maestro Rinvio comforted her, 'it is a shocking thing to have happened, but you must accept that both the Dottore and Luciano are very happy. If you wish you may meet them. Maybe they can answer some of your questions.'

Against her instincts, Kitty nodded.'I'd like that, but they're not here, are they?'

'No, but we can bring them to Volana in a few days. You will return?'

If I can,' Kitty paused, 'but I'm not sure how I got here this time, let alone how to get back.'

Signor Rinvio smiled. 'It is very simple,' he said, 'you just fall asleep while thinking of Volana. You'll arrive here.' He looked out of the open window. 'Come, you must return to your own country, and we must inform Vincitore that we have a new student here at the Conservatorio. I think it would be a good idea to have someone to show you around Volana, and my father will instruct you in the ways of the Stravagante.'

Suddenly, Maestro Rinvio called out from the vast bed. 'Come here, child. Let me see you properly.'

Slowly, Kitty walked over to the hold man, and he took her pale hands in his rough, callused ones. He smiled, and his green eyes lit up. 'I am glad you have come, Micina. I am glad that I have had a purpose here. There is much you must learn, and I look forward to teaching you. Welcome, my dear, to Talia.'


	5. Chapter 4: A Lesson

Chapter 4

A Lesson

The sunilight was already gushing through Rena's bedroom window when she opened her eyes. She looked down, and saw the key lying in her palm, glittering and innocent. Her head was still buzzing from everything she had been told by Signor Rinvio and the man she now knew to be his father. She was a Stravagante. A traveller between worlds. It seemed impossible, and yet somehow real. She wanted to believe that such a concept could exist, but her logic was screaming at her. Half in a daze, she got up and dressed and stumbled downstairs just as Fliss was on her way up.

'There you are! Do you know what time it is?' Fliss frowned. 'You only have an hour to get to your lesson! Some days I wonder why I even bother with you.' She turned around and walked back down the stairs muttering. Kitty ran a hand through her hair, and stared after her. It was a Saturday! She had completely forgotten about her 'cello lesson! She scampered back into her room, and gathered up her music, stuffing it haphazardly into her folder.

As she locked her 'cello into its case she found herself thinking about Vincitore, who had not had a single music lesson before he won a scholarship to the Conservatorio. She knew that she should be desparately jealous of his talent, but his easy-going manner made that very hard. She swung the heavy instrument onto her back and staggered down the stairs, where Fliss was waiting for her, jangling the car keys and brandishing a piece of toast. Kitty hardly glanced at her as she took them both and loaded her 'cello into the Polo, nibbling on the toast as she did so. It was a tighter fit than normal, because the back of the car was packed with the boxes of cards that Fliss was intending to sell that evening.

Kitty turned at the sound of the door shutting. Fliss hadn't come with her to her lesson since Kitty had passed her driving test a month before, but she normally stood outside until Kitty had left and waved goodbye. She was probably in a bad mood today. Maybe she hadn't sold as many cards yesterday as she had hoped. Through experience, Kitty knew that her guardian's moods depended on either the amount of money that she had earned recently or how well her latest relationship was going. Kitty sighed as she turned out of the road. Most of the time, there was barely enough money in the house to feed them both – even though Fliss paid for everything by credit card – and none of her relationships in the past past three years had lasted more than a couple of months. This meant that her temper nowadays ranged from mildly grumpy to a full blown screaming fit. This morning was relatively good, all things considering.

The traffic was particularly bad that morning, so it took Kitty over three quarters of an hour to get out of London, and another half hour to reach Mrs Harlem's house. Even though she had been coming here for over seven years for her lessons, the large Regency house never failed to impress her, particularly on a bright day like today. She drove slowly up the gravel drive, past a soaring wall covered in ivy. As the house crept into view, Kitty wondered – not for the first time – why Mrs Harlem still gave lessons when she could afford to live in a house like this. Kitty hoped that it was because she enjoyed teaching her pupils and simply didn't want to give that up. Under the gaze of the glorious sunlight, the house looked simply stunning. Striking white steps led up to a large front door that, as always, stood open. Large windows glittered like jewels, and ivy and honeysuckle clung picturesquely to the walls. Beyond the house, Kitty could see the gardens stretching out to the horizon. Lush green grass and trees adorned with blossom. It looked like a home from a painting or a dream.

Thinking of dreams, Kitty couldn't help but remember the previous night. The lovely spring morning reminded her so vividly her time at the Conservatorio, that she couldn't bring herself to admit that she had probably imagined the whole thing. Surely such a perfect place couldn't exist? Then again, looking at Mrs Harlem's house, maybe...

Kitty stepped out of the car, and lugged the 'cello onto her back. She loved coming here, to the welcome escape from reality, away from a guardian who hated her and a home that echoed of the tragic memories of the past. As she brushed a strand of auburn hair from her eyes, Kitty forced her mind towards the scherzo. That middle passage... that day before in the school she had played it without any mistakes, but she knew that that wouldn't be good enough for her teacher, who always demanded perfection infused with intense emotion.

As Kitty half staggered up the steps, Mrs Harlem came sailing into the grand hallway. She was young and pretty, with dusty golden hair brushed back into a loose knot. As always, she wore jeans with a plain blue jumper. Set across her face was an easy smile that, now Kitty came to think about it, bore a great resemblance to Vincitore's. However, when she saw Kitty, the smile turned into a look of concern.

'Are you all right, Kitty? You're never normally late. To be honest you look completely shattered!'

Kitty affected a slight smile, and looked away. Mrs Harlem didn't press her, but the frown remained on her face. She led the way into the front room, which looked out directly onto the wonderful garden. The grand piano stood by the window, and in front of it were placed two chairs, one with a 'cello propped to one side of it. Kitty took her place and fished out her music. Mrs Harlem sat at the piano, and rifled through the loose sheet music that was scattered over it. Absentmindedly, she hit an A, and Kitty started to tune her 'cello. However, for the first time, her mind wasn't on the sound of the instrument. She was far away in the strange city called Volana, in the beautiful building where music soared out of every doorway and echoed through every corridor...

'Now, what shall we start with?' Mrs Harlem's words cut through her daydreaming, 'I'd quite like to hear what you've done with the scherzo, but I should probably see how your scales are faring without grades. F# melodic minor, please.'

Kitty fingers scampered up and down the fingerboard, the mechanical process waking her up more effectively than the long drive. Mrs Harlem looked on, gently correcting a fingering position here or a bowing angle there. Once, scales had been the bane of Kitty's life, and some had reduced her to tears when they refused to come right. However, then Mrs Harlem had introduced her to the patterns that scales were made up of. After that, Kitty had been shocked at how easy they seemed, and only that sharp eyes and earsof Mrs Harlem managed to pick up on any slight mistakes.

An hour later, after working for a long time on the tricky angular melody of the scherzo, Mrs Harlem said, 'How's your composition coming along? You were working on a 'cello song, weren't you?' Kitty nodded. 'Well let's hear it, and we'll see if we can come up with something.'

Kitty took out the crumpled piece of manuscript paper, and began to play the silken melody. After a couple of minutes, Mrs Harlem stopped her.

'Have you considered setting this to words and singing it? It sounds a bit like it's looking for some lyrics.'

Kitty flinched and vigorously shook her head. She hadn't sung for years. Not since...

'I think it would be beautiful.' Mrs Harlem went on, 'You have a way with words. I read that poem you wrote for the competition last year, and that was so full of passion that it scared me! If you could come up with something similar for this, well, I don't think that anyone would be able to listen without crying. I severely hope that you haven't had as much sadness in your life as comes across in the way you play and compose.'

Kitty turned her head away. No one knew. No one except Fliss, who refused ever to mention it. She certainly wasn't going to mention that day now.

Mrs Harlem sighed. 'You had such a beautiful voice,' she said, 'but I haven't heard you sing for years. Or speak.' She sat down in the second chair and stared at Kitty for a moment. 'I'm worried about you, Kitty. You haven't said a word since our first lesson. Over the years I've grown used to it, but nowadays you just seem so sad...'

Kitty kept her lips firmly shut. It wasn't hard; she'd been doing it for seven years. Mrs Harlem's piercing brown eyes stayed fixed on her, but Kitty looked away. Slowly, she started to gather up her music, taking care not to look at her teacher, who stayed sitting where she was, deep in thought even after Kitty had walked out of the door and driven away.

* * *

That evening, as she sat at her desk finishing a maths assignment, Kitty wondered whether she had seemed rude. People seemed to take it for granted nowadays that she never said anything. Everyone ignored her at school and in her eyes that was fine, wlecome, even. She could sit and learn in her own world, not having to worry about the dramas of relationships or arguments. The only one who had ever worried her was Josh, simply because he viewed her as a challenge. The three years that she had spent at Barnsbury had gone quickly, and she knew that she wouldn't miss them when she left for university next summer, grades permitting. Kitty sighed. Her teachers had told her that she should try for Oxbridge, and she desperately wanted to give it a go, but she knew that she could never afford it. Fliss would never help her. As far as she was concerned, once Kitty turned eighteen she wouldn't be able to get out of the door quickly enough.

'You could never get in, Katherine.' She had said at Parents' Evening. 'And anyway, you'd struggle with the interview!' Fliss had laughed at the time, but that had just made Kitty more determined to try. She had thought long and hard about what she wantedto study. Music seemed like the obvious choice, but she hated her A-Level classes simply because they overanalysed pieces that were meant to be experienced and not described. The beauty and genius of music was that it worked when it was all put together, not picked apart and stripped to the bare bones of its tonality. She didn't think that she could stand 3 or 4 years of that. Maybe she would choose maths. It had a similar beauty in its method and precision, and the way that it solved the world's conundrums fascinated her.

Kitty filed away the finished homework and stood up, looking around her room. The sun was just setting, as dark shadows crept across the floor. A narrow beam of light stretched through the open window, towards her desk, alighting on the key as it lay there. Kitty felt a strange tug, as though the key was calling to her, but that was ridiculous! Still, she picked it up and weighed it in her hand. It felt lighter than before, and the pinky sunlight that fell on it made it glitter like some ethereal charm. Talia. Even the name sounded beautiful. As she lay in bed, Kitty smiled thinking Volana. Surely somewhere so perfect shouldn't exist. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the pure lilt of music that sang through sunlit rooms and over seemingly endless hills...

* * *

Vincitore was sitting in his practice room as Kitty faded into view. He started, but his Talian acceptance of the supernatural stopped him from jumping up and running out of the room in panic. Signor Rinvio had told him a great deal the previous evening, just before Micina had returned to wherever she came from. Vincitore had been confused, but had decided that the less he knew the better. Micina wasn't Talian. That was clear to anyone. Pale skin clearly unaccustomed to bright sunlight and thick auburn hair, with startlingly bright silver eyes that would make anyone look at her twice. Signor Rinvio had said that it was important to make sure that no one looked at her too closely, lest they noticed her mysterious lack of a shadow. That was going to be difficult when Vincitore showed her around Volana.

Kitty sat up and looked around. Vincitore was sitting at a table, looking slightly pale and shaken but otherwise well enough. The cramped little room was just as she remembered it, with the 'cello propped in one corner and sheets of music everywhere. Before she could say anything, however, a young man burst into the room. He was clearly distressed. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes raced around the room. He hardly seemed to notice Kitty, but instead spoke to Vincitore.

'Maestro Rinvio – come – not much time.' He beckoned and rushed out the door. Confused, Vincitore and Kitty followed him to the chamber that Kitty had visited the previous day, night or whatever it was. Signor Rinvio was bent over the bed, and glanced up when the three of them ran in. His hair was tousled and had come loose from its black ribbon.

'Thank you, Luca.' He rasped. The boy bowed and left, with one last tortured glance behind him.

Cautiously, Kitty stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. Maestro Rinvio lay still, his eyes barely open. His son crouched beside him, clutching one pale, cold hand. He didn't look up as Kitty approached, but at the sound of her footsteps, Maestro Rinvio slowly turned his head.

'Micina –' he breathed, so faintly that Kitty could barely hear him. 'I am sorry. I have let you down.' He struggled with the words, but it was clear that he was longing to speak, so Kitty let him continue.

'I wish – I wish that I could see you grow. I have only known you a day, but you already seem like another child of my own. I would have liked to teach you the art of stravagation and helped you yo fulfill yur purpose here. But it is not to be.' He sighed, 'It is my time to leave, so I bid you goodbye. Nido,' he gestured slightly to his son, 'take care of her. You do not need to be a Stravagante to be a member of the Brotherhood. Teach her everything you know, and call the Dottore and Rodolfo here. Micina has a purpose. Help her.'

With a final breath, Maestro Rinvio turned his face upwards, and the bright green eyes suddenly sparkled. His last words were so weak that they seemed like a breath of wind.

'Goodbye Talia. Goodbye my children.'


End file.
